A couple months ago, I introduced a new project. I’ll be publishing a series of Intercultural Artist Interviews here on the blog. Four artists are pondering their responses to my questions.
Okay, I realize the questions are a bit daunting and deep. It’s not at all easy to crank out responses quickly.
So while my artist friends are pondering (and completely free to skip over any questions they choose), I thought I’d start interviewing myself. Here’s my own response to my first interview question. More to come over the coming weeks.
1. What drew you to this “foreign” culture? Is what initially attracted you different from what keeps you connected now?
I was always interested in “Eastern” philosophy and world view. When I was a kid, my mom and her friends listened to Ram Dass talks. She attended meditation classes, read Carlos Castaneda and Seth Speaks… not all truly Eastern teachers, but mind-expanding and different from the standard western cultural view. It was the 1960s and ideas were flowing. I read Be Here Now at 12 and did est at 15. My mind was always seeking a path of understanding that appreciated the mystery and connectedness of the world… and that gave me responsibility for my place in it… or at least for my experience of my place in it.
I heard the Dalai Lama speak on the East Field at UC Santa Cruz during his first visit to the US in 1979.
But it was travel and direct contact that drew me into the Tibetan world. Trekking in Ladakh, getting to know Tibetans in Boston, arriving in Dharamsala during a downpour one August afternoon… I felt at home, at ease, with family. My naturally wide smile was reflected back to me. Laughter flowed. Friendships grew. I felt a kinship with Tibetan community. Of course, I’m not alone in this. Fondness for Tibetans is rampant. But often it’s also superficial, disrupted by the uncovering of their completely ordinary humanity.
As my sense of kinship was revealed, my appreciation for the Buddhist philosophy also deepened. Tibetan Buddhism provides so many paths of practice. An endless feast for a glutton of personal growth.
I also loved the language, not only the sound but also the wonderful way words are constructed by assembling pieces of meaning.
Strangely enough, it wasn’t really the art or the imagery that drew me at first. The connection with the images came through wanting to work with the fabric to create them. And later through initiations and meditations.
What keeps me connected now? Is it different? Well, yes. Living in Europe for the past 9 years, my direct contact with Tibetan culture has been minimal. What keeps me connected is my work, my carrying on their tradition, and my practice. I miss the kinship, and I miss the language. But everything has its time.
As I write, I glance at my coffee table and see Mingyur Rinpoche on the cover of an old issue of Shambhala Sun. The headline reads, “We Always Have Joy.” The lightness with which Tibetans generally carry life’s challenges continues to inspire me.
My physical involvement with their images and methods supports my commitment to grow. My natural tendency is to flit around from method to method. The investment of identity I’ve made in a Tibetan art form helps to keep me grounded and focused… committed when my inclination might be to wander. I think this is a good thing.
